tractive when she had bidden him good-by, with her emotional
flush and softness of expression and the dewy brightness of her eyes.
There was something actually moving in the way her strong hand had wrung
his at the last moment.

"I only _wish_," she had said, "I only do so _wish_ that there was
something I could _do_ for you while you are away--something you could
leave me to _do_."

"Keep well and enjoy yourself," he had answered. "That will really
please me."

Nature had not so built him that he could suspect that she went home and
spent the rest of the morning in his rooms, putting away his belongings
with her own hands, just for the mere passion of comfort she felt in
touching the things he had worn, the books he had handled, the cushions
his head had rested against. She had indeed mentioned to the housekeeper
at Berkeley Square that she wished his lordship's apartments to remain
untouched until she herself had looked over them. The obsession which is
called Love is an emotion past all explanation. The persons susceptible
to its power are as things beneath a spell. They see, hear, and feel
that of which the rest of their world is unaware, and will remain
unaware for ever. To the endearing and passion-inspiring qualities Emily
Walderhurst saw in this more than middle-aged gentleman an unstirred
world would remain blind, deaf, and imperceptive until its end
transpired. This, however, made not the slightest difference in the
reality of these things as she saw and felt and was moved to her soul's
centre by them. Bright youth in Agatha Norman, at present joyously
girdling the globe with her bridegroom, was moved much less deeply,
despite its laughter and love.

A large lump swelled in Emily's throat as she walked about the
comfortable, deserted apartments of her James. Large tears dropped on
the breast of her dress as they had dropped upon her linen blouse when
she walked across the moor to Maundell. But she bravely smiled as she
tenderly brushed away with her hand two drops which fell upon a tweed
waistcoat she had picked up. Having done this, she suddenly stooped and
kissed the rough cloth fervently, burying her face in it with a sob.

"I do _love_ him so!" she whispered, hysterically. "I do so _love_ him,
and I shall so _miss_ him!" with the italicised feelingness of old.

The outburst was in fact so strongly italicised that she felt the next
moment almost as if she had been a little indecent. She had never been